Monday, February 27, 2006 :::
I've only been pulled over by the cops four times in my whole life, and I've never gotten a ticket. In fact, the worst punishment ever bestowed upon me by law enforcement was in the sixth grade, when K-Mack and I had a Silly String fight outside the Brookdale Mall. Some power-hungry lady mall cop, who obviously had too much time and too little to do, made us clean up all of the silly string we had sprayed in the parking lot in case "some old lady should come along and trip on it and break a hip." Never mind the fact that the stuff disintegrates into dust when you touch it. She even took down our names and numbers in case such an accident actually occurred. And being the good kids that we were, we gave her our real information.
Anyway, I never understood the whole "cops are pigs" reference or how that came about, but I thought this was kind of funny:
Does Cleveland Police Logo Contain Hidden Image Of Pig?
Wilbur? Nicely done, graphic designer.
Oh wait. I've been pulled over five times. I forgot about the time in senior high when we got pulled over late one night while making a home movie. I had slicked-back hair and a painted-on goatee (totally in character), and K-Mack was playing a mysterious hitchhiker, which must have looked odd to the cop who had obviously been watching us film at the abandoned gas station on the corner. When asked for his license, the driver of the vehicle (who was also in character portraying the cab driver) said "I don't have one. But I got an A in driver's ed, officer." Man, we were lame kids. Most kids our age who got pulled over in the middle of the night had to worry about getting caught with beer or pot in their car. My only worry was that my costume make-up was smudged.
Here is a screencap of me in full costume that evening, right before we got pulled over, just to help you visualize the scenario:
Is it me or do I totally look like a young Colin Farrell? And here's my big death scene. Dan gets murdered by K-Mack. Oh shit, I just gave away the ending:
::: posted by dan at 10:44 PM :: [ link ] :: (45) comments
Genetics are neato.
Black and white twins!
That poor mom is never going to live down the inevitable infidelity jokes. Plus, it's going to be a really awkward social experiment if one of them becomes more popular in school than the other one. But still, isn't that cool? This is where someone more sentimental than me would break into a chorus of John Lennon's Imagine, or if you're really tacky, Blessid Union of Souls I Believe. But I just like the science of it. Plus those babies are super cute.
::: posted by dan at 10:08 PM :: [ link ] :: (18) comments
Saturday, February 25, 2006 :::
I hadn't posted any new music in my Juke Box since the end of 2005. So I finally put some new music in there, including a fresh Prince song, which surprisingly isn't half bad (but still doesn't even come close to touching anything from his 1987 heyday), and the best Radiohead Remix/Remake I've ever heard: Mark Ronson's Edit of Just.
If you're so inclined, look over to the right and listen to me turn this bitch out.
::: posted by dan at 9:30 PM :: [ link ] :: (10) comments
Some people frame their first earned dollar, but I saved my first honest paystub, which I found the other day:
I was hired at $4.25 an hour without any chance for a raise due to the fact that the company was already in chapter 11, which wasn't a surprise considering the fact that the entire department store would be lucky to have ten customers a night. I can't think of anything in the world that I would do for $4.25 an hour anymore. Someone could offer me that to sit around and watch TV and I'd still turn it down. Totally not worth it.
I had to get the job to pay for car insurance, which were the rules in my house. My mom told me that I could blow every penny of my first paycheck, just to get it out of my system, but that all subsequent paydays would be dedicated to savings. So after two weeks of work, I got my first paycheck: eighty bucks. I remember exactly what I bought, vividly:
1. A Hypercolor T-shirt (Actually, it was a generic brand from Kohls, but it still changed colors when you blew on it.)
2. A Black Crowes cassette tape
4. Some Pizza Hutt
Little has changed. I still blow all my money on trendy clothes, music, and bad food. As they say in Six Degrees of Separation: It's hand to mouth, just at a higher plateau.
Anyway, you can get Hypercolor paint now. For your walls and stuff. But it's like $350 a gallon. And I'm not sure why you'd want to go gettin' all hot on a wall.
::: posted by dan at 1:05 AM :: [ link ] :: (24) comments
Friday, February 24, 2006 :::
I had no idea Andrew Bird had gotten so popular, but the Fine Line was packed to the gills at his show tonight. My fellow concert attendee and I sacrificed a good view of the show for a chance to sit comfortably at a table and get served drinks for most of the evening, so at best this is what we saw:
Andrew was great of course, but even more interesting was the fall-down drunk girl within stumbling distance who apparently thought that Andrew Bird was the type of music that inspired hip-grinding ass-rubbing hyper-sexual pole dancing, without the pole. But unfortunately, it is not that kind of music, and even more unfortunately, she was not even remotely capable of dancing sexy. In fact, it looked more like she was in a perpetual state of controlled falling down and tripping over her own feet. Most people had to turn away out of sympathetic embarrassment, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of that train-wreck. She totally made my evening.
On the flip side, there were also some loud bitches who did nothing to add to the experience. They stood around in clumps, chatting incessantly at the top of their lungs throughout the entire performance, spewing pointless drivel involving someone's latest haircut and "Oh my god do you know what Tom did?!?" banality. It was actually as if they were battling with the musicians for audibility. The dumb girls almost seemed annoyed that they couldn't hear each other over the music they had just paid twenty dollars to witness. Why pay money to have a random gab-fest smack dab in the middle of a concert venue? I couldn't help but hear their conversation about planning a "pre-party" at 7:00 the next night. Or maybe 8:00. Well, how 'bout we say between 7:00 and 8:00? Or maybe even 8:30. Should we say 8:30? Yeah, let's say 8:30. I was hoping to god she would scream-shout her address so that I could show up at her stupid "pre-party" holding a ghetto blaster with the volume on my Andrew Bird CD set to eleven so that when they all looked at me with utter disgust and annoyance I could just shout "Oh, I'm sorry, is this annoying and inappropriate? Is this type of distraction only acceptable if everyone else has paid a twenty dollar entrance fee? My mistake, you dumb loud bitches."
And I bought a concert t-shirt.
::: posted by dan at 12:32 AM :: [ link ] :: (12) comments
Tuesday, February 21, 2006 :::
This is me and my friend T:
I'm not tryin' to be his pimp, but T's on the market, ladies. I'm taking it upon myself to find him a good normal girl. His reputation is only slightly tarnished, and even though he's pushing thirty, he still has a lot going for him. Such as:
1. He's tall: 6' 3"
2. He's generous with the bar tabs.
3. He's friendly and jolly, but not in an obese Santa Clause kinda way.
4. He's gainfully employed.
5. He don't look half bad:
So, if you're a nice single lady, or you know a nice single lady, who might be interested in T, email me a friendly note at FindTaDate@yahoo.com.
It would help if you are near or around Minneapolis, too.
::: posted by dan at 9:38 PM :: [ link ] :: (71) comments
Sunday, February 19, 2006 :::
The other day I got an email from "Bobbey" with a link to Rachel Ray's Mini Cheeseburger Salad recipe, which I find to be absolutely brilliant. Someone actually made a salad topped with mini-cheeseburgers. It reminds me of that episode of the Simpsons where Marge buys Homer some ice cream topped with mini-cherry pies, and it looks just as ridiculous:
Only 15 Minutes Prep Time!!
I love how people can always find new ways to royally fatten up a salad. It also reminds me of my friend Brent. Once I called him on the phone while he was eating, so I made the usual inquisitions, and the conversation went something like this:
Dan: "What are you eating?"
Brent: "Hotdog salad."
Dan: "..." [confused silence] "What's hotdog salad?"
Brent: "It's chopped up hotdogs in a mustard sauce."
Dan: "Where on earth did you get that recipe?"
Brent: "It's my own invention."
Dan: "What's in the mustard sauce?"
Not that I wouldn't eat it, mind you.
::: posted by dan at 11:25 PM :: [ link ] :: (19) comments
Saturday, February 18, 2006 :::
My last post about Pepsi and The Hoff keeps disappearing. So this is a test post to see if perhaps Blogger just doesn't like David Hasselhoff. I'm sure Blogger likes pirate penguins, because who doesn't.
::: posted by dan at 11:59 PM :: [ link ] :: (12) comments
Thursday, February 16, 2006 :::
Adrants posted about this Australian billboard the other day, and it has forever since been burned in my brain. There's something disturbingly, gushingly, over-the-top phallic about it. As if I need another reason to be revolted by the taste of Pepsi:
You can, of course, download the image for you desktop here.
I know the internet is literally jam-packed with crazy Hasselhoff shit, but I can't help to wonder if he's self aware of his absolute ludicrousness? How does one keep topping oneself when one is David Hasselhoff? The bar is raised so high now if must be a full time job keep up with him. At this point, calling him the Liberace of Eurasia (and Australia) would almost be an understatement.
Australians must be a fun bunch, though. My friend Maurice told me about a calling feature from Virgin Mobile in Australia that allows you to pre-dial a special code number at the beginning of a night of drinking that will block a number from being dialed on your phone until 6am the next morning. This is to prevent drunk dials. Apparently it's true, it's old news, and it's awesome.
I know a few people who would benefit GREATLY from such a service.
*ahem* T-Bone *cough*
And if you don't already own it, you should download Har Mar Superstar's DUI MP3.
::: posted by dan at 11:58 PM :: [ link ] :: (18) comments
Wednesday, February 15, 2006 :::
I was testing out some free software converter thingee for a work project, and I thought I may as well use my own head as a test subject. Then I thought I would share it, because who doesn't want another good look at dan, especially in glorious 360º.
You can even manipulate my big floaty disembodied head by clicking on it. It could've worked better had I used more images, but it was just a test run.
Anyway, thanks to presurfer for the link.
::: posted by dan at 11:44 PM :: [ link ] :: (15) comments
I saw this online today and was thoroughly disgusted. And let me tell you what, it takes something really special to turn me off bacon. Uncle Oinker's Strawberry Flavored Gummy Bacon:
[FP] Some things just shouldn't taste like strawberries. Or be gummy. But you can buy them if you're exceptionally crazy. You'd probably like Circus Peanuts, too.
The absurdity of it reminds me of those bacon-shaped band-aids you can buy. I guess I'm just not sure why you'd want to fool someone into thinking that you've bandaged your finger in bacon, but if you're that type of person, then consider that boat floated.
Also, did you know that we are on the verge of printable bacon? Technology has come a long way, you see, and we are THISCLOSE to having one of those cool sci-fi food generators like they got in Star Trek. I don't know why the author of the article focused so much on the bacon, though, because in reality the technology could be used for just about anything at all. But for some reason, the dude was fixated on revealing a new delivery method for bacon, which I guess really speaks volumes about the universal appeal of non-gummy bacon.
Of course, there is such a thing as too much bacon.
Bacon bacon bacon. I've typed it so much that it's starting to look wrong.
::: posted by dan at 9:50 PM :: [ link ] :: (13) comments
Tuesday, February 14, 2006 :::
Really, I do.
::: posted by dan at 4:03 PM :: [ link ] :: (14) comments
Sunday, February 12, 2006 :::
I got two stitches in my scalp last Friday after this stripper hit me in the head with a beer bottle. Or at least that's what I'm going to tell people. Actually, the stitches are from the doctor after I got a little bump removed from my scalp on Friday afternoon. It was a tiny little bump that was buried past my hairline, so it was virtually invisible and undetectable by anyone except me. But apparently I am too vain to live with something like that on my head for the rest of my life. So it's gone, replaced by two stitches of blue nylon thread.
Then later that evening, I went out to celebrate my friend Ashley's birthday, but I arrived late and my friends T-Bone and Lambert were already well into that "I love you, man," drunk phase, so there were lots of group hugs, loving head pats, and innocent love taps. I kept reminding them to avoid yanking my stitches, but they were beyond retaining useful information at that point.
Eventually we left that bar to visit another, and after dropping some friends off at the front door of the establishment, I went to park my sweet Hyundai ride in a downtown ramp. On the long elevator ride back up to the ground level, these two guys were both staring at me silently. I got nervous until one finally broke the creepy silence and said, "Dude, you got blood all over your forehead."
Slightly embarrassed, I walked to the nearest restroom imagining a small crimson drop at my hairline, but when I looked in the mirror I saw a big mess of smeared crusty blood that covered half of my brow. Apparently my stitches were no longer doing their job. The levies had been breached. I quickly wiped myself clean and high-tailed it outta there.
All I know is that if I saw some messy-looking loner in a downtown parking ramp elevator with a forehead covered in smeared blood, I would probably think "Holy crap that dude must be crazy," but I'd keep it to myself. I certainly wouldn't make eye contact. So I guess I should be glad I got noticed when I did because the next stop was supposed to be a sing-along piano bar, and I doubt it would've been cool to sing/shout "Jeremiah was a bullfrog..." with a blood-smeared forehead. Actually that probably wouldn't have been cool even without the blood. Either way, I'm grateful. And no, I didn't take a picture of it.
It's also kind of embarrassing that the first bar we attended was a trendy downtown restaurant that is frequented by local celebrities and news anchors, who I tend to obsess about. So it's very possible that Rick Kupchella from our local NBC affiliate, who happened to be sitting at the table right next to us, had his appetite ruined by the sight of my blood-smeared forehead. Or maybe I should be proud of that. I dunno.
That was a pretty disgusting post.
I actually have been hit in the face with a beer bottle by a stripper before, but that's a whole different story and fortunately it didn't require stitches, and someday I plan on James-Freying that little tale into a full-fledged docu-novel.
::: posted by dan at 1:39 PM :: [ link ] :: (21) comments
Wednesday, February 08, 2006 :::
I've always been dubious about the usefulness of police sketches. I doubt people remember faces all that well in the first place, and then to have to relay that visual memory in verbal form to a third party seems absolutely ludicrous. The end results are always awesomely generic and therefore completely pointless, or even worse: sub-human in appearance. Case in point, here is a sketch that I saw on the BBC site today:
To be fair, the point of the article is that the eyewitness is unhappy with the accuracy of this police sketch. Apparently the suspect wasn't a sun-bleached Hitler after all.
Anyway, that gave the idea to do a Google Image search for "police sketch", the results of which were totally awesome. Seriously, it's like when my grade school art teacher made us draw each other's faces for display in the hallway. Fascinating, but some of them freak my shit out:
Yuck. They totally give me that Unsolved Mysteries type of upset stomach. I can't even hear the theme song to that show without convulsing. They play it twice daily on Lifetime and I always accidentally flip to it during my lunch break and instantly lose my appetite. It must be a weird childhood trauma association, from having watched the show as a kid while I was home alone. I had a similar experience with a particular episode of Three's Company where Janet gets robbed at the flower shop and the detective tells her that the suspect may come back to kill her, since she was the only eyewitness, and that she should therefore avoid walking in front of any open windows. I may be be getting the details of the episode wrong, but I closed all the drapes and ducked under windows for weeks after watching that damn thing. I still can't sit with my back to a window.
::: posted by dan at 7:43 AM :: [ link ] :: (18) comments
Monday, February 06, 2006 :::
I hate finding old pictures of myself because they always remind me of my awful childhood wardrobe. I'm not even sure where most of my clothes came from back then, because I only remember getting actual brand-new shirts on two separate occasions, and both times were at Sears. I'm pretty sure the majority of my wardrobe was acquired through the barter system during our annual neighborhood garage sale. I don't think I cared much at the time, since I wore a uniform to school, and at least I didn't have it as bad as my poor friend Maurice who was forced to wear his sister's Chic jeans as hand-me-downs. But take this picture for instance:
My shirt says "Truckin". I'm assuming it is a Grateful Dead reference, so even if this picture was taken in 1983, how old must that T-shirt have been? I guess Head Shops never go out of style. But how did it come to be on my body? And was it appropriate to tuck it into black slacks for an afternoon hike through the lush vegetation of Gooseberry Falls, Duluth? I wish I still had it, because now that T-shirt would be cool as hell, and sadly I'm pretty much of the same size and stature.
Truckin. Shit, man, I was pretty cool for an 8-year-old, and it looks like I knew it.
::: posted by dan at 10:50 PM :: [ link ] :: (21) comments
Nothing interesting has happened to me in a while. Nothing postworthy, anyway. Even the internet seems to be disappointing me lately. So instead I'll have to tell you about what happened to my friend B* last night.
Imagine that you live alone in an apartment-style condo and that you're fast asleep. Now imagine that you wake up to someone tapping you on your shoulder. Now imagine that after the initial shock of waking up to a stranger standing over your bed, that you manage not to wet yourself and stumble to turn on the light, only to discover a 90-year-old man hovering over where you were just sleeping, slack-jawed and pointing at nothing.
a) have a heart attack
b) poop yourself
c) instinctively pummel the old man to death
I would probably do 'a' and 'b' simultaneously, but honestly I couldn't judge anyone if a 'c' took place. Regardless, this specific scenario, without any of the above options, happened to my friend just last night. As B* struggled to compose himself and assess the situation, the old man just mumbled and ranted disorientedly, calling B* 'Cousin Frank' or something like that. I imagine him to look like that creepy old evil guy in Poltergeist II. Turns out that the poor old guy had wandered up from downstairs, found B*s door unlocked, entered, turned on all the lights, rooted through his drawers and cupboards, and then apparently decided it was time to wake up the sleeping stranger in the bedroom. Go figure that the one night B* forgets to lock his front door is the one night that the dementia-addled old-fart downstairs decides to go hunting for long-lost relatives at 2am. Anyway, my friend luckily remembered that his downstairs neighbor lived with his elderly father, so the poor guy was eventually returned to his right place. B*s one relief is that he had been too tired to disrobe that night before bedtime. Otherwise that whole scene would have played-out in nude slo-mo, which I'm sure would have killed that poor old man.
Just kidding, B*.
I gotta give B* credit. At least once a week I wake up and see the confusing silhouette of my office chair in the distance and freeze in terror thinking it's some odd-shaped intruder. It can honestly take a good 20 minutes to stop my heart from racing.
::: posted by dan at 10:47 PM :: [ link ] :: (20) comments
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